


1987

by ACR



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Losers club - Freeform, M/M, teenage years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-01-09 04:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12268572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACR/pseuds/ACR
Summary: Teenage Losers Club-The Losers are seniors in High School. Despite their vastly different social status', they have managed to remain friends; except for Richie and Eddie who had a huge falling out. As they begin to rebuild their friendship, they consider the reasons they stopped being friends, and begin to wonder if there is something there beyond friendship.





	1. Knew You Would

Richie burst through the school office doors and was careful to make sure class was not out yet, before he hurried down the empty hallways and towards the glass back doors of the school. He hoisted his backpack over his shoulder and huffed quietly, pushing back the familiar sting of tears behind his eyes.

He opened the glass doors and stumbled down the school stairs, squinting slightly through his thick glasses. Spring had sprung in Derry, warm sun had replaced cold days and the grass of the school campus was still wet with morning dew. The sun hung low in the sky and brisk, but hopeful, air clutched at Richie's arms. He ignored it as he made a B-line towards the football bleachers, ducking under them quickly after making sure no teachers were around to see him. He slowed his pace now, setting down his backpack and digging out his warm leather jacket and seeing his familiar sewn on Dead Milkmen patch. He pulled his hands through the sleeves and checked the inside pocket for his cigarettes and lighter. He only had two left in this pack, which meant he'd have to find more before the day was up. He sighed and gratefully lit his lucky.

Spring air blew against his hair as he stared out over the football field. On the opposite end, he saw a few members of the track team recovering from a morning practice. He inhaled deeply and frowned as he saw an all-too-familiar letterman jacket among them.

“Hey,” a voice sounded near him. He flinched and turned to see Bev walking into the under-bleacher area, a cigarette already between her fingers. An ironic flowery dress flapped to her knees under a black t-shirt depicting some underground street-punk band logo Richie had never heard of. Her doc martens were dirty as usual. He wished he could pull off punk-rock-without-trying the way that Bev did. Instead he wore an Atari shirt over normal jeans and normal black boots.

“Hi,” he said back, offering up his lighter. She took it graciously.

“You didn't come back,” she punctuated her sentence by lighting it, “To English class. Something happen?”

Richie's mind flashed back to the school office with Miss Teller, hippie school counselor. _Richie, at this rate your grades will not be high enough to graduate._ Her face feigned concern as Richie's cheeks burned. He was sure that she was actually feeling smug, for all the times she had warned him of shit like this in the past. _If you're depressed, we can talk it out. Are you on any medication? Of course, school has to take a backburner to your health Richie. But I would love to see you walk with your classmates at the end of this year._

“Same shit as usual,” Richie snarked. He couldn't even find a funny thing to say. Bev's face said she understood. They stood together in the smokey morning air and watched the track team from afar for a few minutes in silence. Richie watched the letterman jacket and his stomach burned, “How much longer til next period?”

“Uh,” Bev checked her watch, “Five minutes.”

Richie inhaled another drag of smoke deeply, “I need to score another pack, do you wanna go to the store during lunch?”

“Can't,” Bev put out her butt. She was always a faster smoker than he was. She lit another, “Lunch with Bill today.”

“Ah, lunch with Billy Boy,” Bev made a face the same way she always did when Richie called him that, “What now?”

“I think he's gonna break up with me.”

“Again?”

“Some bullshit this time about his internship,” Bev held up her head and changed her voice to mock Bills, “I'm just so _busy_ Beverly, with the internship, and with piano, and with having a _stick up my ass_. And this relationship- it's not conducive with my _future._ ”

Richie laughed. Billy and Beverly had had an on-again-off-again relationship since her return from Oregon sophomore year. At first, Bill was still an awkward nerd and Bev was way too cool for him. They had what you might call a “passionate” relationship. These days Bev wasn't enough for Billy “going places after High School” Denbrough. Still, for every time they broke up they would have an aggressive reunion again in a month or two. It had happened so often that they were all just used to it.

“I think I need to get a tutor,” Richie said. He kept his eyes on the track team and he felt Bev's gaze follow his.

“I could probably tutor you,” She said in a knowing voice, “Or Ben could. Billy or Mike if they weren't _too busy._ But I already know who you want to do it, so I don't know why I offered.”

“It's just hard,” Richie said, his stomach hurting and tears burning fresh again, “I can't focus on school and if I can it's just- it just seems...”

“Pointless, I know.” Bev put out her cigarette on her boot sole and Richie did the same, “Just ask him, I'm sure he'll say yes.” The bell rang to signal the end of their quick bonding session. Bev put a piece of gum in Richie's hand and walked off, waving as she went, “I'll see you after school Richie.”

Richie turned, and saw the track team walking this way down the field. A group of mostly seniors and juniors he didn't ever take the time to get to know. They wouldn't want to know him anyway. He turned and exited the bleachers, popping the gum into his mouth as he went, and decided to wait by the gap in the fence. The group quieted down as they approached him, glancing at him with nervous eyes as they walked past. Still, the last one of the group, stupid brown eyes and messy hair and the dumb letterman jacket, faltered.

“Hey Eddie,” Richie said. Eddie stopped and looked at him, a smile breaking on his face. Richie felt embarrassed by it.

“Hey, Richie.”

“I need a tutor,” he blurted, more than a bit embarrassed now, “I was hoping you could-”

“Of course.” Eddie said so quickly that Richie stuttered a bit over his words.

“I mean, if you're busy, Bev or Ben could-”

“No, it's fine,” Eddie smiled again and Richie felt the urge to run away screaming, “I have a track meet today, but tomorrow after school maybe?”

“S-sure.”

“Great. Lets meet at the library.”

“Great. I'll see you then.”

Eddie's smile never faltered. He hated it. He bounced away and quickly caught up with his teammates, joining in with them like it was nothing. Richie stood there and watched him until he disappeared and his stomach stopped doing backflips. Tomorrow. Thursday. He sighed and started walking towards school, towards algebra, his hardest class. Tutoring, tomorrow. Maybe they could start there.

–

Thursday came and went like it always did for Eddie. He had stayed up a little later the night before, the days track-meet fresh in his head. He made a list of people he would have to practice with, extra. Mostly sophomore's and the same Junior who had given them trouble the year before. He worked on homework and anxiety clutched at his heart a bit, but it wasn't until he had got to bed that he let the feelings wash over him. _Richie talked to me today._ It rang in his head like a melody. _Richie talked to me today, after almost six months._

So Thursday came and went like normal, but his heart was just a bit more happy. He woke up early, he ate his breakfast, he was careful to duck out of the house for his morning run long before his mom would be awake. He went to school. Homeroom, Algebra, English, Psychology. At lunch he found Mike and Bill where they always were, eating lunch outside on the stairs. The sun was high and warm today, enough that they both had their jackets off. Bill wore a nice dress shirt and pants, with familiar converse on his feet, and Mike wore a tight shirt and jeans, his own letterman jacket nearby on the grass.

They both cut whatever they were talking about as he approached.

“Dude, you're tutoring Richie today after school.” Bill said.

“Christ, how fast does word spread in this school?”

“Bev told me.”

“Before or after you dumped her?” Eddie asked with a bit of scorn in his voice. Mike smirked. Billy frowned.

“After. And I didn't DUMP her. We are still friends.”

“Right,” Mike said, his eyes meeting Eddie's with a knowing look, “And I'm sure you'll stay just friends.”

“I'm s-serious this time!” Bill looked upset, “There's just too much going on with me right now. And graduation is just around the corner! I lo-love Bev, of course. But this life is taking us two different places.”

Life was taking them all different places. Now that graduation was coming, and college after that, Derry was practically in the rear-view for everyone but Mike, who was intent to stay here with his family, much to the anger of every college football team willing to offer him a scholarship. Eddie shook his head, trying to shake the thought of leaving this place from it.

“Anyway, I am tutoring Richie today, yeah.” Bill looked like he was gonna cry. Mike smiled wide. “God, you look like you just heard your parents are getting back together.”

“This is better than that by far,” Bill laughed, “How long has it been since the blow up?”

“Six months,” Eddie said. He remembered it like it was yesterday, though. And the wound still ached a bit. Things had been rough for Eddie and Richie's friendship much longer than that. Eddie had found his niche, and sure, no one was expecting the kid who used to think he had asthma to enjoy running. Track team was like Eddie's saving grace, but unfortunately, Richie didn't feel like he belonged in his world anymore if the world was like this. Track practice strained their friendship. They didn't hang out much anymore. It all came to a head last fall, when Richie found out Eddie was dating a girl from the team and Eddie found out Richie was smoking.

It had been a painful break, one that kinda split the Losers Club in half. Mike, Bill, and Eddie found their natural place together as they were all honor students, on sports teams, in clubs. Bev, Richie, and Ben, who had always been outcasts and never found their place in clubs or teams, fell together as well. Stan wavered in between at first, but these days, they hardly saw him anymore.

“Maybe we can all be friends again,” Mike said, “I know most of us are leaving after high school is over, but it would be nice to have one more summer as the Losers Club.”

Eddie was excited to be talking to Richie again, but now the pressure seemed on. Seven people laid here in the balance, each with a long history of bridges they had burned with each other.

Eddie would be happy just to have his best friend back again.

–

Friday evening found Richie walking to meet Bev and Stan and Ben at the music store/coffee house, Mousers, the only of both places in Derry. Richie ordered a tea, because coffee made his attention span even worse, and joined his friends in an aisle. Ben was wearing a Star Wars t-shirt and Stan was wearing a cardigan, tie, and god-awful gigantic hat paired with slight eyeliner.

“Jesus Christ,” Richie gasped dramatically, drawing their eyes to him, “Morrissey is that you?”

“Would you shut the fuck up?” Stan frowned at him. He was holding a Blondie CD, among other CD's Richie couldn't name.

Richie snorted at his own joke, joining his friends where they were looking through music.

“Whats the plan tonight?” Ben asked, adjusting his glasses. They were moderately new, and he was having trouble getting used to them. Richie had welcomed him to the literal dark side, because at least for him, the world that existed outside his glasses was fuzzy and dark.

“There's a house show, at Jezzabelle's place,” Stan stood on his tip-toes to look at the records on a top row, towering over them more than he already did.

“Ugh, I'm tired of going to your creepy older girlfriends house every Friday.” Richie scoffed, sipping his tea from the giant mugs the cafe gave them.

“It's that or another night drinking shit vodka at Ben's house.”

The four of them exchanged looks, remembering their previous weekend at Bens house nearly getting caught with booze by Ben's over-protective mother.

“House show it is.” Richie grumbled.

“It'll be fun,” Stan assured, adding another CD to his pile, “Jezzabelle's friends are in a punk band, and two other bands will be there too. Lots of booze and twenty year olds. We've gotta find a good rebound for Bev in her hour of need.”

“I don't need your help finding men, Stanley, though I'm sure you attract more than I do, with this look.” She waved a hand in Stans effeminate face and he swatted her away. Richie glanced at Ben, his face was unreadable. Ben had loved Bev since they were kids, and she knew it. He was her best friend, there with her through all the ups and downs with Bill. Richie always wondered how he stayed this strong through her relationship drama. He had asked him once.

 _I am Bev's friend because I like being her friend,_ he had said. _Of course I'll probably always like her, but I'm not her friend because I expect anything from her. I just wanna be a good friend._

Richie didn't really get it but he didn't really get girls, either.

“Should we invite Billy?” Ben asked.

“He won't come,” Bev answered quickly, “Even if we invited him. He's got speech therapy Friday evenings, and internship bullshit in the morning.”

“Mike?” Ben asked, his eyes wandered over to Richie, “Eddie?”

They all watched Richie closely. Of course, this was why they were really here. Everyone wanted to know how the reunion with Eddie went yesterday. Richie bit the inside of his cheek, not really sure what to say. He wasn't sure how it went either.

“You know if there's underage drinking, Mike won't go.” He said, changing the subject a bit.

“I dunno,” Ben sighed, “He said that he is trying to be cooler. I bet if we tell him he's being uncool he would go, out of sheer peer pressure.”

They laughed, but then their eyes dwindled back over Richie, telling him without saying it that they weren't going to drop the subject. For six straight months, they had been careful not to bring up Eddie around Richie. They had been supportive. And of course Richie knew that they were still friends with Eddie, but they didn't bring it up. He appreciated it. But now it was time to grow up and stop being a baby.

“It went okay,” Richie said. And it had gone okay. A bit awkward, they had talked almost completely about Richie's grades and where he struggled, and then they made a game plan for tutoring three times a week over the next two months. Eddie didn't judge, even though Richie was practically disappearing from embarrassment over the fact he had to admit he was struggling with school, let alone to someone he had screamed at the last time they spoke. But Eddie was fine. They had worked on Algebra, a little bit, and Richie already felt like he understood a bit better. They hadn't talked about October at all. “I don't know if he will come, but we can invite him.” 

“Wonderful, the gang's almost all back together,” Beverly smiled and put her arms around Richie and Ben, “Except for Bill, he's too _fucking busy._ ”

They laughed.


	2. Hate To See You Go

At a payphone nearby, Bev and Stan smoked cigarettes while they called the rest of their friends. Richie had called Billy; got his answering machine, left a message that he was invited to a house party if he could stop being a dick for more than five minutes. They didn't worry too much about his dad hearing the message; he had been an aloof asshole who didn't give one shit about Bill's life since his parents had split up. It made Richie sad, if he stopped to think about it for too long, so they tried not to.

Ben called Mike, and they all watched and laughed as Ben used a combination of guilt and pressure to make Mike cave into coming to the party with them tonight.

When the time came to call Eddie, Richie chickened out and made Bev do it.

“Heya Eddie, it's Bev,” Richie's stomach turned even though he didn't know what Eddie was saying on the other end, “Yeah, I know! Hey, wanted to invite you to a house party tonight, it's on the west end... Yeah, out by the farms.... Mostly older kids, you know.... Live music, probably some booze... Yeah, Richie is gonna be there.”

Richie tried not to show that he was nervous about this as Beverly studied him. She smirked.

“Yeah, most of us are gonna be there. Not Bill, you know, he's a stick in the mud. But everyone else... Great, see you then.”

She hung up and Richie played it cool. “Just like old times.” He said.

“With more alcohol, hopefully.” Bev said.

“Better music.” Ben added.

“And way less clowns, with any luck.” Stan chimed in. The other three made gagging noises at him as he laughed into the cool air.

–

There was no track practice on Fridays. But Eddie tried every day to run as much as he could. He hung out on the track field long past dusk, timing himself in sprints and trying to beat his personal best. By the time the familiar, beat up green car pulled up to the street nearbye, Eddie was drenched in sweat and the sun was down.

He gathered up his stuff and walked to the car. He saw Bill in the drivers seat.

“How was speech therapy?” He unloaded his backpack and gym bag into the back seat, digging through the latter for some deodorant and a towel and some real pants.

“As fine as ever,” Bill said, “I don't really stutter much anymore, just when I am stressed out. We are working on that.”

Eddie nodded. He had headed back to school after talking to Bev, a bit nervous because he had never been to a party more wild than a few friends a handful of stolen beers. He'd called Bill from the payphone at the school, practically begged him to go to the party with him so he wouldn't be the most awkward person there. Really, all it took was a mention that Beverly was gonna be there, with a bunch of college-aged boys, and on the rebound, to get Bill to go. He was transparent.

After Eddie felt less damp and had real clothes on, he pulled himself into the passengers seat and Billy took off down the road.

“Who's house is this?” Billy said, heading towards the west end of Derry, which was mostly spaced out farmhouses.

“No clue,” Eddie replied, “Isn't Stan dating a twenty year old? Maybe it's her place?”

Bill made a disgusted noise at that. If Eddie and Richie had been best friends, Billy and Stan had been best friends too, especially after what happened when they were fourteen. This year Stan had completely withdrew. He seemed to surround himself with Richie and Beverly and Ben more than them, but even then he wasn't around much. Bill was notoriously not happy about it.

They drove in moderate silence as the world grew dark around them. They heard the house party before they saw it. A lone house on a winding dirt road, with at least 30 people hanging out outside it, and who knew how many more inside. Loud punk music was blaring through the house and out into the street. Bill parked and they both gazed into the crowd of people they mostly didn't recognize, a few they did from school. New nervousness set into Eddie's stomach.

“This is why I broke up with Bev,” Billy said as they stepped out of the car, “Stuff like this is her whole life, and I hate it. Don't we want more than this?”

“Maybe Bev is right,” Eddie said to him, “Maybe you need to let loose and have fun for once in your life.”

Bill made a face and they approached the house. Eddie didn't know that there was this much punk culture in the world, let alone Derry. He witnessed studs and chains and patches for bands he'd never heard of, scary amounts of makeup and brightly colored mohawks. He felt a bit out of place, but for every extraordinarily dressed person, there was someone wearing a t-shirt or flannel. No one seemed to care how anyone was dressed here. It was kinda nice. He even saw a few Letterman jackets from Derry High, like his, but mostly on people he didn't really know.

They made their way into the house, sliding in between people dancing and talking, despite the deafening music. In the living room, they found the source of the music; a group of men and a girl in spiked leather vests playing loud angry music from huge speakers. The back part of the house was floor-to-ceiling glass windows, all opened to show more people out in the back yard, which was lit by hundreds of yellow Christmas lights draped between poles all over the yard. Eddie spotted Beverly's bright red hair among the people in the yard, and pulled on Bills sleeve to point him in her direction. He nodded and they went.

In the yard, the music wasn't as loud as it was inside the house. The ambiance of the lights was nice, and Eddie saw a table just full of kegs and liquor bottles. He even saw a few bottle of what looked like red wine.

As they pulled up to the rest of the Losers, Eddie and Bill were first drawn to Stan. Stan was wearing incredibly tight clothing, and more makeup than they had ever seen on anyone, and a huge ridiculous hat. However, the woman he was standing next to, presumably the mystery girl he was dating, had managed to be wearing even MORE tight clothes and makeup and an even BIGGER hat. Bill waved to Stan as they pulled up and Stan rolled his eyes, not trying very hard to hide his disdain.

“You made it!” Bev said. She was wearing her usual garb, but seemed to be glowing with a certain glow. She was holding a red cup of mystery liquid and Eddie wondered if she was already drunk. Ben was standing next to her; his usual place. As Bev's eyes drifted from Eddie to Bill, her smile dropped, “And look who found time in his busy life for us!”

Billy frowned and opened his mouth to say something smart back, but decided against it and closed it.

“Bill, Eddie, this is Jezzebelle,” Bev said, gesturing to the pale girl with all the makeup, “This is her house.”

“Welcome,” the girl said in a dull tone. She was holding a foam cup of what was definitely red wine. Eddie had to try hard not to roll his eyes at how pretentious it was.

“Where's Mike and Rich?” Billy asked loudly over the music.

“They're dancing,” Bev pointed into the crown and their eyes followed. Sure enough, Richie in his usual jeans and leather jacket, and Mike in his letterman, were attempting to hard-core dance with the rest of the crowd. Their faces were bright with smiles and laughter, as they were obviously failing to dance the way everyone else was. Eddies stomach dropped when he saw Richie's bright smile behind his thick rimmed glasses.

“Mike at least is completely trashed,” Ben said over the music, “He drank a whole lot of some fruity stuff, that was definitely mostly vodka. If he doesn't puke tonight I will be shocked.”

“Ah, our class president. What an example he sets.” Eddie said, nodding seriously. They all laughed, even Stan, who quickly pulled his face back into a stern look when Jezzebelle frowned at him for his outburst.

“Do you guys want something to drink?” Ben asked.

“Uh, no,” Billy said, “I won't stay long, I have intern stuff in the morning, I just wanted to say hi.”

“Great,” Bev seethed with sarcasm, “Always good to see you, for two seconds.”

“I'll have a drink,” Eddie said quickly, trying to break the tension. Ben grabbed his sleeve and pulled him through the crowd to the tables set up with bottles.

“What do you want? Something fruity? Something spicy?” Ben asked, looking over the bottles.

“Uh, whatever you think will get me buzzing quick,” Eddie said. Ben eyed him and he sighed, “I'm just nervous. There's a lot of tension going on here.”

Ben reached for a cup and dipped it into what looked like a fish take full of orangey, reddish colored alcohol. The voice in the back of Eddies head told him that was unsanitary, and he pushed it away as he took the cup. He sipped it and it tasted like mango, and rubbing alcohol. He made a face.

“Yeah, Bev isn't very happy with Billy. But you know them, one angry fight and they'll be back together again.” Ben said.

“But I mean, Stan too. Bill is really unhappy with him.”

Ben shrugged, “Not your problem.”

Eddie nodded reluctantly, drinking a few gulps of the mango atrocity. He didn't say what he wanted to say, which was that he still wasn't sure where he stood with Richie. They walked back to the group, which Mike and Richie had now joined. Eddie met his ex-best friends eyes and he smiled at him, and Richie looked away nervously. He had been like this all day yesterday too. Why the fuck were they so nervous around each other? They had been best friends most of their lives. He had a feeling they would need to talk about the fight, but Eddie just wanted to let old demons die.

Mike was practically stumbling over himself as he grabbed Billy and pulled him onto the dance floor. Bill looked flustered but went. Bev grabbed Ben's hand and pulled him out there too, not one to be out-done by anyone but least of all Bill in a fun-having contest. Stan and his girlfriend had already disappeared. Eddie and Richie were there alone now, awkward, nervous.

Richie leaned over to him, “Thanks for yesterday,” He said over the crowd. His breath reeked of something Eddie couldn't identify. So he had already been drinking, too. Eddie took a few more gulps of the juice, praying it would kick in.

“It's no biggie. I've got a lot of free time, now that I don't have a best friend.”

Richie's mouth shut in a way that might have been audible if it weren't for the loud music. As soon as the words came out, Eddie wished he could take them back. Why did I say that? Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“I'm sorry,” Richie said loudly. Eddie blinked at him, shocked. The song ended and the band prepared to play another one, “I think about it all the time. I wish I had... done things different.”

They looked at each other for a moment, just eyes meeting.

“It's okay. I just miss you.” Eddie replied. A new song started playing, louder than the last.

“Do you wanna go somewhere to talk?” Richie shouted over it, “Somewhere quiet?”

Eddie nodded. Richie stood up and took him by the sleeve of his jacket, a motion that put blood in his cheeks. He pulled him through the crowd, past people who didn't even seem to notice them. Eddie chugged what was left in his plastic cupped and tossed it into a trashcan as they passed one in the kitchen. Richie maneuvered the house like he had been here a million times, and he probably had been. They somehow found a set of stairs, and a second floor, and an empty bedroom. They could still hear the music low, vibrating through the floors, but it was much quieter. The room they were in appeared to be a guest bedroom, and was lit by a large lava lamp.

“This was Jezzebelle's grandma's house,” Richie planted himself on the bed and kicked off his shoes, bringing his feet up, “And then she died last year, and didn't have anyone else to leave it to. It's got like, six bedrooms so she just uses it as a party house. She cleans and sets up the bedrooms so people can have sex in here if they want to. But the night is young so there shouldn't be any sex antics yet.”

“Groovy,” Eddie said, tapping the lava lamp. Things were quiet for a second, the music reverberating through the floor the only sound between them.

“Ed's,” Richie finally broke the silence, the familiar nick-name bringing Eddie's eyes to him, “I'm sorry about October. There was so much going on with me, and I felt like you didn't give a shit anymore. But I took it out on you, and I didn't give you a chance. I wish I had.”

Eddie took a deep breath, and realized his head was getting fuzzy. The booze was finally here and kicking in. Richie must have noticed and frowned.

“Did you drink that whole fucking cup of jungle juice?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, his head spinning a bit. He sat on the bed.

“Dude,” Richie stared, “That's like, six or seven shots easy and you don't drink at all. That's gonna hit you like a train in like, three seconds.”

And it did.

–

After Richie made Eddie drink a whole cup of water, he had him lay down. He pulled up a chair and stared at him as Eddie drunkenly groaned from the bed.

“Dude,” Eddie slurred, “What was in that shit?”

“Rum, Vodka, Tequila, who the fuck knows,” Richie waved his hand, “Like six different things. They just mix it all together with some juice. It's awful, I wouldn't even drink it. Who gave it to you?”

“Ben,” Eddie laughed and then burped loudly, “God, if I puke I'm gonna kill him.”

“Ben doesn't know shit about liquor, so he's probably regretting life right about now too.”

“Oh, and you are the expert now on alcohol?”

“I'll have you know I come from a family of experts,” Richie said it to be funny, but Eddie stopped smiling and looked at him. A bit too close to truth, probably.

“Richie,” Eds said, “I know you feel bad but I feel like... Maybe I deserved some of the anger you had. I got so caught up in all my new friends I didn't even... I didn't even think about you. That sounds awful, but it's true. I didn't know you were angry until that day you yelled, until you ripped me a new one in your bedroom.”

“Ed's, please-”

“But you fucked up too,” Eddie interrupted, sitting up, “You fucked up and I fucked up. And maybe we shouldn't have got that mad, but we both just... we were just trying to burn each other.”

Richie laughed to try to break the tension in Eddies eyes, “C'mon. I probably would have done the same thing as you, if I suddenly became a cool jock and had all these cool girls all over me.”

Eddie's face was level and serious, and his words were slurred. Richie didn't wanna fight again, at all, but he sure as shit didn't wanna do it here, at a party, while he was buzzed and Eddie was getting drunker every second. But he could see in Eddie's eyes that he wanted to hash this out, or he thought he did, and that included getting angry.

“Do you remember when we started ninth grade?” Richie said, meeting that gaze, “And you, you were still so mad at your mom. You didn't know what was real. And so one day, we rubbed everything your mom ever said you were allergic to on your skin, to see if any of it was real?”

Eddie broke his gaze to laugh, “Yeah, god that was so dangerous. And it turns out I really am allergic to peanuts? And I almost went into shock, but you called 911 and held my hand the whole ambulance ride.”

Richie laughed too, remembering Eddie's swollen up face, “And you were like 'Fuck! I really am allergic to peanuts! That bitch didn't lie about one fucking thing and now I'm gonna die!'”

They laughed together. Downstairs, the music stopped and the bands appeared to be switching, finally.

“You were so dramatic,” Richie said, “You still fucking are.”

Eddie smiled at him. He laid back down and rolled over to the other side, patting the bed where it was now empty. Richie hesitated, and then stood up. He turned off the light, so the room was illuminated in lime green, and got onto the bed covers. They both stared at the green lava lamp for a few minutes until new music started out, this band was a bit more synthy. “You don't smell like cigarettes.”

Richie blushed a deep red, “Oh, yeah? Well, I didn't smoke at all today.”

“Because you know I don't like it.”

Richie sighed and turned so he was staring at the ceiling, “I don't wanna fight about the fuckin cigarettes again, Ed's.”

“I'm not fighting,” Eddie found his hand in the dimly lit room and held it, “Just, thanks.”

Richie's face went red again. This was just drunken affection, which he was used to. Usually it was Stan or Ben, or him to one of them, getting drunk and snuggly. He didn't know why Eddie holding his hand made him feel... different about it.

“How did things end up with that girl?” Richie asked. She had been the catalyst of their fight. He didn't remember her name, but he could remember her face like it was yesterday. Blonde, ponytailed, tall. A year younger than them, she was also on the track team. Whenever Richie saw her she was in her little track shorts. Just the thought of her made him seethe with anger. He didn't know why. It was like she was the physical manifestation of Eddie's growing disinterest in him, and that's when they fought. And jesus, did they fucking fight.

“Fucking, Emma? Dude, speaking of shit I don't wanna fight about,” Eddie said. Emma. Richie gritted his teeth. “We didn't even date a full three weeks. I wasn't into her. I called it off.”

Something about this soothed Richie's anger for some reason, but he still pursued the topic, “Why didn't you like her? She was pretty, she liked the same boring shit you did. Isn't that all there is to want in a girlfriend?”

“What? Dude,” Eddie sat up and looked down at him, “Why are you asking me this?”

“I'm curious.”

Eddie stared at him, and Richie felt it, even though he couldn't see Eddie's eyes when he was sitting up over him, “She was fine. She was pretty and smart and fun. But it's not about that, dude. When you like someone you're gonna want to be with them every fucking second. You're gonna wanna do dumb goofy shit with them, and just them, all the time. When they look at you, you're gonna feel like you're on fire but it's gonna be the best... god damned thing there is. And she was cool, but I just.. I didn't even feel a spark with her.”

Richie was quiet. His heart was beating fast and his hands were hot. What the fuck is going on? Eddie laid back down and they didn't look at each other.

“Have you felt like that before?” Richie asked. Eddie groaned.

“Dude I don't wanna talk about girls, I am so fuckin drunk I don't even remember what I just said.”

Richie laughed, “Do you wanna go back downstairs? I bet dancing will sober you up. And now I kinda, wanna be as trashed as you are.”

“Fine,” Eddie sat and then stood, wobbling. Richie laughed even harder as he fell back down.

–

Eddie didn't remember walking back down the stairs, but suddenly they were at the party. The new band was mostly girls, and one person whose gender was a bit hard to determine, dressed in suits and sunglasses. There was a lot of synthy keyboard. He was aware of Richie holding his hand, fingers laced in his. His heart was thumping loud in his chest.

Suddenly they were back outside. He stood and watched Richie get his own cup of mystery-booze-mix.

“Bottoms up!” Richie laughed and started to chug it. Eddie didn't want the drunk to go away- he felt amazing. He felt all his emotions, real and heavy, but he didn't feel bad about any of them. He felt... real. He reached for a cup and filled it with red wine. When Richie was done with his cup, he refilled it with red wine as well. He leaned forward so his lips were at Eddies ear. Eddie felt his face turn pink.

“Rules!” Richie said, “If we are gonna dance hard, we need to take breaks for water, too. And this wine is the last booze you can have. You're a light weight.”

“Fine,” Eddie said back in his ear, purposeful to brush his earlobe with his lips. Richie gave him an odd look and then grabbed his free hand, pulling him into the wave of dancing people.

Eddie let his body cut loose, not nervous about his awkward lanky arms and legs as he might be sober. Among the people, he saw Stan and his twenty-year-old girlfriend, tongue deep in each others mouths as they “danced”. There were a lot of people basically fucking out here on the dance floor, among them Billy and Beverly, who both looked like they wanted to have sex and also murder each other. Mike and Ben were nearby, dancing like no one was watching, and looking completely trashed. Eddie pointed them out to Richie and they laughed.

The night was a lot of dancing, with Richie, with his friends. After a few songs he and Richie left to get water, and came back. Eventually, without really noticing, Eddie drank all the wine in his cup, and then lost the cup completely. At one point Eddie was in the bathroom with Mike, who was puking. And then he was on the dancefloor, grinding innocently with Bev. And then Billy and Bev were in the front yard, yelling at each other, and Billy drove away. Suddenly, Eddie and Ben and Bev were sitting on a kitchen floor and Bev was crying, clearly drunk.

And then Eddie and Richie were dancing again. But this time, it was just them. And this time, they were close. Eddie had his arms around Richie's neck, who laughed and his breath smelled like red wine and cigarette smoke. When had he gone to smoke? Fuck, Eddie didn't remember.

And then suddenly, they were kissing. Richie was all hot mouth and gentle tongue, and Eddie was grabbing at him like he was starving.

And then, they were still kissing, but this time Eddie was on his back, hands in Richie's hair and grinding up against him. Were they in a bedroom? Shit. Shit? What was going on?

Eddie pushed Richie away, “Fuck, Rich, I'm so drunk.”

“Me too, Ed's,” Richie was breathing heavily. How long had they been kissing? He looked around. He didn't recognize anything. He couldn't focus. Fuck, they were kissing? What did this mean?

And then, Eddie had a panic attack.


	3. Wish You Were Here

Richie woke up with a screaming headache. He groaned and looked around. He was alone in a bed, he felt fully clothed. Light was streaming into the room from the window, but it was dim. He checked his wristwatch. He couldn't read it. Fuck, he wasn't wearing his glasses, duh.

He closed his eyes and pressed his palms against his temples, trying to remember the night. Eddie. He and Eddie had talked, worked things out. And Eddie was pretty drunk. And then they went down to the party and danced and Richie had slammed two more cups of... something. After that it was a blur. There was some dancing. He remembered Billy and Beverly screaming at each other in the yard, that was clear as day in his memories. And Bev was drunk and crying and Ben was with her, so they left... And Mike was... puking? And Richie remembered smoking a cigarette with a few random party people. And then...

Oh fuck.

Oh no.

Kissing. There was kissing. Richie sat up and opened his eyes. He looked around but everything was blurry shapeless mess. He was dressed, so that was good. He felt around, the bed was a mess. He remembered being here with Eddie. And kissing.

“Eds?” He said out into the empty room. He wasn't sure why he said it. He might have still been a bit drunk, but mostly he couldn't see fucking anything. He stood up, his shoes were off but he couldn't see if they were even in the room with them. He made his way towards the shape of the door, and fumbled around with the doorknob until it opened.

He knew the house, but not very well, and it was a big house. He touched the wall and made his way down the hallway. At some point he fumbled over something that felt like a shoe, so he grabbed at it. A tennis shoe, and definitely not HIS shoe. He dropped it and kept fumbling. The house was quiet. Based on the little light coming through windows and how tipsy he still felt, it had to have been early morning still.

“Bev?” He whispered as loud as he felt comfortable with, “Ben? Stan? Jezzabelle? Fuck- I can't see. Anyone?”

He found a shape that looked like stairs and very carefully made his way down them, clutching at the railing with both hands and feeling the stairs underneath him with his feet. He was starting to feel panicky- he didn't like this and he couldn't replace his glasses.

Suddenly it hit him like a train. Panic. Eddie had a panic attack last night. Richie closed his eyes at the bottom of the stairs and tried to remember what happened.

They were kissing. Richie was on top of him. Eddie started freaking out. God... He couldn't remember anything past that. He might have straight up passed out right then. If he did, he was a god-awful friend.

“Ed's?” He whisper-yelled again.

He felt along the wall some more. Light came into his field of vision. This was the living room. He could vaguely make out the “stage” where the bands played last night, and the couches all pressed against the walls. The dance floor was probably covered in trash. He stayed close to the wall and tried to get to the porch.

Eddie had to still be here. Billy was his ride, and Billy left, and they were all way too trashed to drive anyway. God, at least he hoped so. Where was everybody?

Richie found the porch door, still open. Morning air blew into his face.

“Ed's?” He tried one more time. He was too blind. There was no way he was gonna find Eddie, let alone his glasses, like this.

“Shit fuck, Richie,” Eddie's voice sounded, surprised. Richie looked around. A moving figure came into his field of vision, then he felt warm hands on his shoulders.

“I lost my glasses,” Richie said, but it was pretty fucking obvious. Eddie snorted and he was glad to hear the sound.

“I found them. Here,” After a second, Richie felt Eddie putting his glasses on. He blinked as his vision came back. Eddie was a few inches in front of him. His hair was a mess, he looked wrecked. His skin was beyond pale, there were bags under his eyes, and his face was puffy.

“Have you been crying?” Richie asked, touching Eddie's shoulder. Eddie wiped his face and turned away, walking a few feet and sitting down on one of the porch steps that led to the yard.

“No. Yes. Fuck off Richie.”

He followed him and sat next to him, “Dude, I'm having... I'm having a hard time remembering last night. But I know you started having an attack; are you okay?”

Eddie was quiet for a second, “I just wanted life to be normal.”

“Really? I kinda wish it was more exciting.”

“I'm being serious, Richie,” He looked at him, brown eyes burning into his, “Do you ever stop and really think about the shit we saw? No one should have to see shit like that; let alone kids. If I close my eyes sometimes I am there again, on the floor of Niebolt, and he is holding me down and I am powerless and he's gonna kill me. And I am screaming and screaming and he's just... laughing.”

Richie remembered. The memory of a lot of it had faded. But the feeling he had when they ran into that room and saw that monster looming over Eddie- he remembered that.

“And if I have to live with that for the rest of my life, why couldn't I have had a normal mom? We don't talk anymore, you know. She signs my school papers but I eat alone, and I avoid her. She knows that she ruined me, and I'm gonna be fucked up forever. Every time I touch anything I am going to obsess about if it's bad for me. Every time I love anyone I am gonna obsess about how they love me. Do they love me too much? Are they suffocating me? That's why I like to run. It's the only time my brain shuts the fuck up.”

Richie stared at him. These were things he knew, sure, but not things he had ever heard out loud. Richie didn't go to therapy after what happened. Stan went to therapy, because he couldn't stand being alone and he couldn't stand the dark and he once had a meltdown at a museum field trip after looking at a painting too long. Bill went to therapy, only after his parents divorce. Mike had to go to therapy, because the guilt of murdering someone weighed so heavily on him that he couldn't physically touch anyone without crying. And Richie knew that Eddie had gone to therapy, because who wouldn't after that shit with his mom? But he didn't know why. He had never asked.

He reached out and took Eddie's hand, “It's okay if your brain is loud, okay? I'll just.. try to talk over it.”

Eddie laughed, “You're probably the only one who could.”

Richie stared out into the open fields, the sun rise making them glow with an early morning kind of orange, “I know you want to be normal, and I know... I know that kiss isn't really a normal thing. So if you never wanna talk about it, and you just wanna pretend it didn't happen-”

Eddie turned to him, piercing him again into silence with his eyes.

“Fuck, Richie... No.” He let go of Richies hand and his heart ached, “I wanna talk about it. I wish it didn't happen like that. I had no idea how to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

Eddie looked away, his cheeks a bit red, “October was... Fuck. It was worse than any break up could be. I couldn't sleep. I replayed that day in your room over and over in my brain. When you told me that I didn't give a shit about you, when you accused me of not caring. I hated myself and I hated that you were right, because I had been pulling away from you.”

“You had?” Richie felt his heartbeat begin to quicken.

“Yes, of course,” Eddie sniffed, some tears forming in his eyes, “Because I realized, that I was too close to you. Every time I saw you it was like my heart jumped into my chest. If I didn't see you for long enough, I started obsessing over where you were and who you were with. And when I got with Emma- shit dude, I tried so hard. We dated and we kissed, and I tried so hard to fuck her because I could, she would have let me. I had a few beers and I got on top of her and I tried to screw her.”

Richie's stomach felt sick.

“But I couldn't! I couldn't fuck her. And when I looked at her I didn't give a shit. And when I kissed her I wished- Fuck, I wished it was you. I wished it was you so bad.”

Richie felt a lump in his throat.

“And I thought to myself, shit. Shit. I am in love with Trashmouth Richie. I am in love with a boy and that boy hates me. He hates my fucking guts and he can't even look at me. And I just lived like that for six fucking months. And I started to be okay, I started to think, things will be okay. I am gonna graduate and get a scholarship and I am gonna leave Derry, and everything is gonna be okay.”

Richie balled his hands up into fists and tried not to cry. And then Eddie turned and looked at him.

“And then, Wednesday, I saw you there. Standing there just fucking looking at me. And you talked to me and I fell in love with you all over again. And I told myself; I am never gonna act on these feelings because I just want Richie in my life so badly I would do anything for it. Anything.”

Richie couldn't stand it anymore. Tears began to drip down his cheeks.

“I shouldn't have come to this party. I shouldn't have drank at all. I wanted to be good to you and now I fucked it up. But now it's out there, I need you to know. I'm so sorry that I pushed you away. I love you and I want you in my life. And if that means we never talk about this ever again; that's okay.”

Richie reached out and touched Eddie's cheek, wiped away a tear there. He leaned forward and brought his lips up to his, and Eddie's breath hitched. He pressed their lips together. Warm breath found tongue and Eddie tasted like sour wine but Richie didn't care at all.

I'm so stupid, he thought to himself. Not once in their four years had Richie ever tried to date anyone. He told himself, and his friends, that he would find someone worth it but he hadn't yet. The real reason was because he already had it. Of fucking course it was right here the whole time.

He pulled away and looked at Eddie hard, "What happened last night?"

"What?"

"I only remember up to your panic attack."

Eddie sat back and considered, "Well, I started freaking out. You got off me and you held my hand while I cried. I think at some point I tried to leave but you convinced me to stay, not to walk home alone... I think after that we just went to sleep. You... held me, a little bit. I woke up about an hour ago and I went to find your glasses, because I knew you would need them when you woke up."

He sighed in relief. He thought maybe they had... done more than kiss, which isn't what he wanted. Not drunk, not when he couldn't remember it.

"You're-" Eddie started, and Richie found himself interrupting him.

"I love you too. I mean, god, it seems so obvious now. I always have." Eddie shut his mouth and blinked at him, "I wanted to be part of your life, I was jealous of the girl you wanted instead of me. When you were speaking yesterday about the spark when you like someone- I have that. I always have, with you. When you give me a snide comment or something. When you sleep over playing video games for too long."

Eddie laughed breathlessly, blushing, "Jesus, Richie. No need to be so sappy."

"Man, shut the hell up."

He stood and Eddie followed suit, the two of them heading back into the house. Now he could see things clearly, he saw all the passed out people on various couches and surfaces. In the kitchen, they found Jezzebelle drinking coffee and scowling more than usual. He makeup was perfectly ruined.

"Hey Jezz, where's Stan?" He asked, "We should head out."

She rolled her eyes, "He bailed, in the middle of the night. Told me it's been real, and then dumped me."

They bother blinked at her, "Uh, what?"

"Yeah. So gather your little posse and leave," She rolled her eyes, "There's on passed out in the bathtub, and the tubby one and the girl are on the front deck in the swingset. Get out of here and never come back. And tell Stan he's a fucking tool."

Richie glanced at Eddie, who was smirking, "Okay, well. I guess we will do just that."


End file.
